Potter of Puddlemere
by Checkmate-13
Summary: The war is over and Harry just wants to have some fun. Turns out Quidditch is a lot harder than he thought, and the Ministry reeeeally wants him to be an Auror. Post-DH AU.
1. Chapter 1

Harry leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply, his bright green eyes flitting between the two scraps of parchment on the table in front of him. He ran his hand slowly through his mess of jet black hair and suddenly snapped forward, determined to finally make a decision. He started re-reading the parchment on his left.

 _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

 _Auror Application_

 _ **Name:**_ _Harry James Potter_

 _ **Age:**_ _17_

 _ **Residence:**_ _The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, England_

 _ **N.E.W.T.s:**_ _Did not attend 7th year of Hogwarts_

 _ **Criminal Record:**_ _1992- Official warning for illegal use of a Hover Charm_

 _1995- Expulsion from Hogwarts for illegal use of a Patronus Charm, later acquitted of all charges_

 _1997- 'Undesirable Number One', later rescinded_

 _ **Referee:**_ _Kingsley Shacklebolt, Interim Minister for Magic_

 _ **Do you consent to the Ministry of Magic performing rigorous background checks on your character and personal history?**_ _Yes_

 _ **Do you understand and accept that you are committing your life to the fight against the Dark Arts for the sake of peace, prosperity, and order in the wizarding community of Great Britain?**_

Harry had left the final question unanswered for a few days now. The rest of the form had been scribbled out in a few minutes, but when he'd got to that last question…

Harry looked out the window of the 6th floor of The Burrow. Mrs Weasley was magically guiding all manner of plates, glasses, and cutlery from the kitchen to an outdoor table. Ron and Hermione were leaning on a fence talking animatedly, while George and Ginny zoomed around on broomsticks in the background laughing. Hagrid was fawning over a muggle motorcycle that Percy had bought his father, while Mr Weasley excitedly (and incorrectly) explained how the various mechanical parts worked. Some light fragrances wafted their way up to Harry and he caught a few notes of a French song amidst all the commotion; Bill and Fleur were currently in the kitchen cooking their portion of the feast.

It had been a long month. A month of funerals. A month of tears. But tonight it drew to a close. They would never forget their fallen comrades, their fallen family, but it was finally time for the next chapter of their lives. Ginny would be returning to Hogwarts to complete her 7th year, as was Hermione, who wouldn't even consider the notion of not graduating properly. Ron was much less eager to return, especially after George offered him a managerial role at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Which just left Harry. His love for Hogwarts had admittedly waned in the last few years, and he had been assured by Kingsley that if he wanted to be an Auror his lack of N.E.W.T.s would not be an issue at all. And yet…

Harry's eyes slid back to the table and he re-read the parchment on his right.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _How are you pulling up? You probably didn't see me but I was in the Great Hall for your final duel with You-Know-Who! Angelina had sent me a message- something about a magic galleon, anyway I couldn't stand by and let the Death Eaters take over the school, after all our Quidditch Cup is in there! After the battle I was talking to Katie and Alicia about old times, and young Ginny Weasley came over and mentioned how because of the Triwizard Tournament, and then that Umbridge lady and Snape, that you didn't get to play a lot of Quidditch after I left. Well! I said that was a bloody outrage, you were the youngest Hogwarts Seeker in 100 years! You set a new record for fastest snitch capture in your SECOND game! You caught the damn thing in your mouth once!_

 _Anyway, I'm sure you got a lot on your plate at the moment, but if you ever had the urge to play again, come down to Ilkley Moor this weekend. Puddlemere United are holding recruitment trials for their reserves squad and I know you have the talent to make it!_

 _All the best,_

 _Oliver Wood_

Harry grinned. It may have been slightly tongue-in-cheek, but Wood probably would have made his last stand in the Trophy Room if he had to.

Harry looked outside again. Ron had joined Ginny and George in the air, the three of them playing a game of 'Keep Away' with an old Quaffle, or as wizards called it, 'Troll in the Middle'. Life's worries just seemed to melt away when you fly. The wind against your face, the horizon expanding as you soar higher and higher, the feeling that you can do anything, go anywhere…

Harry was a talented wizard. A dogged fighter, physically fit, resourceful, and blessed with plenty of courage and common sense. So wasn't it his duty to join the Ministry's front lines and continue to the fight against dark magic? The country needed rebuilding! You couldn't just go off gallivanting with Quidditch! …Could you?

"Dinner's ready! Come and get it! Arthur! Ron! George! Ginny! Bill! Charlie! Percy! Fleur! Hagrid! Hermione! Harry!" Mrs Weasley's voice cut through Harry's thoughts. The noise outside his window grew louder as several different conversations converged to gradually become one.

He'd fought so hard for so long. He'd faced death many times, and even succumbed to it once. It was nothing short of a miracle that he still had his wits about him…In a way it would nearly be irresponsible to dive right back in to such a dangerous life. In fact it was irresponsible! Without a break he would be no good to anyone!

"Harry? Harry?" A couple of voices floated up to him and Harry smiled, finally making peace with his decision. The war was over. His war was over. With a flick of his wand he burnt the parchment on his left and proceeded down the stairs to join his family for dinner.

* * *

 **A.N: First attempt at Harry Potter, hopefully not embarrassing myself. Thanks for reading :)**


	2. Chapter 2

POP

Harry stumbled but kept his feet, having apparated onto a boggy marsh somewhere in Yorkshire. His boots sunk slowly into the mud as he tried regaining his bearings, a task made more difficult by the blanket of fog surrounding him. Deciding there was nothing else for it, Harry unclipped his broomstick off his back and kicked off the soggy ground. He rose steadily, aware that there could be other wizards on brooms in the area who could barrel into him at any moment.

There was another reason he was rising steadily. This was his first time on this particular broom, a Cleansweep Twelve. His Firebolt, a gift from his Godfather Sirius, had been lost in the evacuation of Privet Drive last year and he hadn't had a chance to replace it since. Harry sighed at the prospect of the world's most expensive racing broom being used to sweep up dirt by the lucky Muggle whose property it had landed in. It'd been his intention to buy a new Firebolt, but fortunately Ron had intervened.

" _Harry! This isn't Hogwarts, you can't just ride whatever broom you feel like! Everyone knows the NQL has a standard broom that every player uses!"_

" _The NQL?"_

" _The National Quidditch League! Blimey Harry, you don't even know the name of the league you're trying to sign up for!?"_

Ron had been torn between excitement and jealousy at the news Harry was attempting to become a professional Quidditch Seeker. However in the end his best friend had been invaluable with filling him in on all of the details that Oliver Wood had assumed Harry already knew.

" _First thing's first, no Firebolts! That broom is way too fast in the hands of professionals. It doesn't make for good viewing."_

 _Harry frowned. "What about at the World Cup? Ireland had Firebolts!"_

" _Well of course, Harry!" Ron explained, exasperated. "That was an international game! Anything goes, kind of like at Hogwarts."_

" _What are the other differences then?"_

" _So, as I was saying before, everyone rides the same broom to make it a game of skill, instead of just who has the most money. Of course depending how recklessly you ride the broom some players can get more speed out of them than others"-_

 _-"Which broom?"_

" _The Cleansweep Twelve. Good broom. Anyway, the other major difference is that catching the Golden Snitch doesn't end the game."_

 _Harry nearly choked on his roast potatoes. "Catching the Snitch doesn't end the game!?"_

 _Ron shook his head. "In the NQL they play two halves of 45 minutes, and whoever has the highest score at the end wins."_

 _Harry's mind was racing as he put two and two together. "So that means…I can catch the Snitch as many times as I want, and our score just keeps going up by 150?"_

" _Only 50," Ron corrected, "but yes, Seekers can catch the Snitch as many times as they want during the game. Although some games end with zero Snitch captures!"_

" _Why did they change the rules?" asked Harry._

" _Oh you know, fairness, accessibility, making the other 6 players on the team relevant to the outcome of the game…" Ron waved his hand airily. "You shoulda seen it when the Department of Magical Games and Sports announced the changes. The poor representative got pelted with golden hazelnuts. But people got used to it, and at least you know the game isn't going to take two weeks to end now."_

After much deliberation, Harry had ended up agreeing with Ron that those tweaks were for the best in a professional league, although he did wonder if the personal thrill of catching the Snitch would be the same if it didn't end the game.

He was above the dense fog now and sure enough, a blip on the horizon was just visible. Harry took this opportunity to try out his new broom properly by zigzagging between some imaginary bludgers before flattening himself against the stick to test its limits. Ron had been right, it was a good broom. It lacked the punchy acceleration and insane top speed of the Firebolt, but Harry noticed it was much easier to change directions.

The blip had grown larger and larger against the marshy flatlands and now the stadium rose up before Harry in all its glory. Players sped in and out of view over the top of the stadium, and Harry thought he even caught sight of a Bludger, but before he could enter he needed to double check something first.

He dismounted outside the stadium and found a pillar to stand behind just in case anyone else was loitering around as well. He reached into his plain black Quidditch robes that Ron had made him buy ( _"It's a traditional thing, Harry. You're not on a team so you have to wear plain robes! It's about respect!"_ ) and pulled out a small hand mirror Hermione had lent him. He stared into the mirror, breathing a sigh of relief at the blue eyes that were staring back at him.

Harry was determined that whether he succeeded or failed to make the team, it would have nothing to do with him being ' _The Chosen One'_. Hermione had made a few visual alterations right before he'd disapparated, green eyes to blue, black hair now bleach blonde ( _"It'll help you stand out as well Harry, peacocking is very important!"_ ), and a light pink scar ran diagonally across his left cheek. These measures were only temporary; Harry had no interest in living a double life after spending the last year on the run. He just wanted to do the trials as Vernon Dudley- normal guy, not Harry Potter- vanquisher of Voldemort.

Harry made one final adjustment, replacing his regular glasses with large Quidditch goggles (partially covering his real lightning bolt scar), and walked into the stadium.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks to those who favourited or reviewed! All feedback, good/bad/in between is welcome!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Trials?"

Harry smirked to himself internally as the receptionist glanced at him briefly before returning to her copy of _Witch Weekly_. How would this lady have reacted if he wasn't in disguise?

"Yes please."

"Name?"

"Vernon Dudley."

The receptionist's Quick-Quotes Quill leapt off the desk and started transcribing notes onto some parchment.

"Position?"

"Seeker."

"Age?"

"17."

The quill paused as the receptionist stopped reading her magazine to look up at him.

"I don't recognise you from the youth academy."

"I'm not from the youth academy." Harry replied, confused.

"Listen, kid," The receptionist grumbled irritably, "we don't have time for fans off the street, what's your junior club?"

"Uhhhh…"

"You don't even have a junior club?"

"I played at Hogwarts…?"

The receptionist rolled her eyes. "Oh, well why didn't you say so? I'm sure your mammoth 20 games of experience have prepared you adequately for the NQL."

Harry decided this wasn't the time to bring up the fact that he hadn't played 10 games, let alone 20.

"Can you give me a single good reason why I should let you through?" The receptionist huffed, massaging her forehead in annoyance.

Harry swallowed. "Well, if you let me through you'll be able to read your magazine in peace instead of arguing with me for the next few hours…"

The receptionist's eyes narrowed and she pierced Harry with a calculating stare for a few moments before…

"Fine. It'll serve the coach right anyway for dragging me in here during the off-season. I already let one kid through who pulled the same stunt you did…"

Harry opened his mouth to thank her but she had already returned to her magazine. The parchment with his information folded itself into a paper plane and took off from her desk. Harry briskly jogged after it, the flying paper leading him down a couple of long corridors before eventually emerging into the open air of the first tier stands. He watched as the paper plane sailed over the rows of seats, unfolded itself in mid-air, and landed neatly atop a pile on a table.

Harry's gaze moved upwards as he took in the inside of the stadium. Thousands and thousands of empty seats towered above him, like a grey tsunami was crashing in from all sides. Just like at Hogwarts, three long poles rose up from either end of the bright green oval, with wide hoops attached to the top of each pole. However unlike Hogwarts, there were hundreds of witches and wizards on brooms flying around the pitch all at the same time. Some were racing each other, others were throwing a Quaffle back and forward, and down on the ground some were even stretching or swinging their bats.

Harry kicked off and rose up to join them in the air, but he hadn't made it up one storey before a booming voice interrupted him.

"ALL APPLICANTS TO THE GROUND NOW!"

One of the roundest men Harry had ever seen was standing next to the table full of papers. He had tufts of brown hair with a large bald spot in the middle, and his whole head seemed to be sinking into his body. A big bushy moustache completely covered his top lip, the hairs quivering from the magical magnification of his voice.

Harry joined the swarm of flyers touching down on the pitch in front of the beefy man, and edged his way through the crowd until he was somewhere in the middle. Even though his appearance had changed, he still didn't want to take any chances of being recognised.

An excited murmur ran through the applicants as four people in blue Quidditch cloaks with crossed golden bulrushes on the front landed next to the coach. Harry smiled as he recognised one of them, these must be Puddlemere players.

"Alright, listen up!" The beefy man removed his wand from his throat and started pacing back and forward. "My name is Philbert Deverill, head coach of Puddlemere United. For those of you who don't know, professional Quidditch squads are made up of 21 players. 7 players on the first team, 7 players on the reserves team, and 7 more players as backups. The 126 of you here today are trying out for a place as a backup, that is, there are only 7 spots up for grabs. When you are eliminated from selection please exit the pitch immediately, it's much more pleasant to leave on your own accord than to get expelled by a banishing charm… OK! Chasers! You'll be with the lady to my right, the captain of the reserves team, Felicity Myers!"

A slim, athletically built woman with slick black hair tied in a ponytail stepped forward. She seemed to have a permanent scowl on her face and took off without a word to one end of the pitch. Players kicked off en masse around Harry to follow her and suddenly he felt a bit exposed, the field of remaining applicants had thinned by half.

"Beaters! You're at the other end of the pitch with this man, you probably recognise him, our top Beater, Dermott Hall!"

A bulky, bald, man, swaggered forward with swinging arms, a wide sneering smile flashing from underneath his grizzly grey beard. He too left without a word, taking about 20 of the applicants with him.

"Keepers! I assume you're all here just to learn because you already know we have two of the best in the world in our squad. If you think you're getting game time you're going to be bitterly disappointed. Today's trials will be taken by our reserve Keeper Oliver Wood!"

Wood stepped forward, smiling at the crowd. Harry watched his eyes scan the applicants, passing right over him. His expression saddened for a brief moment before he turned and kicked off, taking another 10 applicants.

"Alright, so now we just have the heroes," Coach Deverill barked, "you're in luck, running your session today is Puddlemere's star Seeker, Benjy Williams!"

The coach led a round of applause that hadn't been offered to the other Puddlemere representatives as Benjy stepped forward. He was a slightly built man with blonde hair and a disarming smile. He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment and laughed nervously at the applause. A couple of girls to Harry's right giggled behind their hands, clearly two of the fans that the coach had been desperate not to let slow down the trials.

After the applause died down the coach gestured to Benjy that the floor was his, and then retreated to a chair that had been set up next to the table, sinking into it with a relieved grunt. He pulled out a pair of Omnioculars and started watching the Chaser trials while taking notes on his clipboard.

"Thanks for coming everyone," Benjy smiled earnestly, "we're so thrilled you all took the time and effort to try and make Puddlemere United the best team in the country! We'll just start off with something basic, an obstacle course! When I call your name, kick off and follow the trail up and around the top of the stadium, making sure you go through every hoop that appears. Any questions? No? Alrighty! Atwell, Emily. You're up!"

Harry watched the first applicant ready herself before taking off with all her might. She rose higher and higher until she was above the stadium, and then the hoops starting appearing. Unlike the fixed goal hoops at either end of the pitch, these hoops were much narrower and only appeared when the Seeker was within a few metres of them, forcing extreme manoeuvres every single time. Harry was actually quite impressed with Emily Atwell, she'd made it nearly three quarters of the way around the ground before a hoop appeared just too far to her left and she bounced off the edge. She quickly regained control of her broom, spun around, and continued around the course, but there was something in Benjy Williams' voice when she landed that was just a bit too kind that told Harry it had been a fatal mistake.

"Belby, Michael."

A man quite a few years older than Harry with short black hair and a stubble confidently stepped forward and started the obstacle course. Harry realised there were probably quite a few older witches and wizards, some maybe had spent their whole careers in and out of professional Quidditch squads trying to make it through trials like this one, it seemed like a cutthroat industry.

Michael Belby however was not humbled by the pressure. He rocketed through the last ring and skidded to a stop right in front of Benjy Williams.

"Excellent run!" Benjy complimented warmly. "Broadmoor, Kenneth."

Harry let his eyes wander to the other groups as another applicant took to the sky. Prospective Chasers were taking on prospective Keepers as Felicity Myers and Oliver Wood watched on keenly. The Puddlemere Beater, Dermott Hall, was ruthlessly hitting Bludgers at overwhelmed hopefuls, while Coach Deverill continued to watch on through his Omnioculars, unmoving.

Meanwhile, a few more Seekers had run the course, and much to Harry's annoyance most were finishing perfectly. Even those that didn't usually only made 1 or 2 mistakes.

"Dudley, Vernon!"

A few snide sniggers went up from the girls to Harry's right, but he was already in the zone and didn't hear them. The world slowed down as Harry closed his eyes; he let the rhythmic beat of his heart count him down.

10-9

8-7

6-5

4-3

2-1

Go!

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reviewing :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Harry weaved in and out of the magically appearing hoops, body pressed right down to the stick of his broom getting every bit of power he could out of his Cleansweep Twelve. In a way, his broom downgrade had been a blessing in disguise, he was used to the crazy speeds of the Firebolt, riding this broom felt like he had all the time in the world to react and change directions.

Harry roared around the point of the oval and started making his way back towards the finish line, navigating a tricky sequence of hoops that forced him to go up and down so many times he felt like his broom was trying to buck him off. Then there was a hard right. A hard left. A vicious drop down to ground level, pull up, right, and then he was soaring again, the finish line was in reach now. He didn't dare lose focus, but he couldn't help counting down the hoops, 5, 4, 3, 2-

Out the corner of his eye he saw a Bludger shoot straight for him. He couldn't dodge, if he did he'd miss the hoop. Flashing back to a stormy night's training at Hogwarts, Harry let himself slip off the top of the broom, but kept his hands and legs wrapped around it. He could feel the wind from the Bludger whistle over his knuckles as it missed him by centimetres, his broom continuing on its path unimpeded through the hoop with him still upside down underneath it. He caught sight of the last hoop and spiralled down in another dive, rolling his body back on top of the broom, rocketing through the final obstacle, and pulling up to a perfect stop in front of a glowing Benjy Williams.

"Awesome! Just awesome! Not sure I'd have been able to react with a Sloth Grip Roll that fast! Well done, Vernon!"

A smattering of polite applause went up from the rival Seekers, many torn between admiration and annoyance. Harry smiled and thanked Benjy before returning to the pack, breathing a deep sigh of relief. It had nearly all been over because of an errant Bludger. Harry turned to look up at the Beaters and saw a mountain of a man, built like a fridge, gripping a Beater's bat and staring down at him. Dermott Hall was hovering in front of him yelling, but the man wasn't paying him any attention. He had flat, black hair, and Harry couldn't help but feel he somewhat resembled Frankenstein's monster. After a few more seconds the man slowly turned his head and retreated to the group of applicants, leaving Hall dumbfounded mid-rant.

Harry was a bit dumbfounded as well. So it hadn't been errant? Why would the fridge-man intentionally hit a Bludger at him? Any further thoughts on the matter were cut short by a tug on his sleeve.

"Hello, _Vernon_."

Harry turned and was met with a cheeky smile from his other former Gryffindor captain, Angelina Johnson. He was surprised to see her, especially dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, Muggle clothes. Before he could ask how she knew, she winked and tapped the pair of Omnioculars around her neck.

"I watched your flying patterns for 4 years; don't think a change in hair colour would fool me."

Harry pulled her out of the group quickly, but most of his surrounding competition was transfixed on the horrifyingly poor run from one Egbert Ecclestone.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"I'm in the squad!" She replied, positively beaming. "Spent most of last year as a backup, then got some chances on the Reserves team very late in the season. Coach told me after our last game that he'd decided to keep me on and cut someone else. I was so surprised!"

"Don't be!" Harry slapped her on the shoulder. "You're the best Chaser I know!"

Angelina giggled. "Trust me, _if_ you make it into the squad that opinion will change real quickly."

Harry shook his head. "Never. How are my chances of getting in anyway? And what's the coach like?"

Angelina turned to look at Coach Deverill, still sitting in his chair, still watching the Chasers through his Omnioculars.

"He…is a total genius. When it comes to recognising talent, I mean. There are better tacticians and strategists out there, but he just has this ability to know what people are capable of, what he can get out of them…you know?"

Harry was a little taken aback. He had pegged the man as more of a grouchy gym coach type than an insightful genius.

"As for you…if you keep flying like that then you're a shoo-in! Go get 'em!"

Harry thanked Angelina for the encouragement and sidled back over to his group, leaving her to return to her vantage point up in the stands. As he made it back he suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Angelina and Fred Weasley had been quite close, in fact he distinctly remembered Fred brashly asking her to the Yule Ball. Maybe he should have said something…

They were into the r's now with Bradley Robinson completing his run. Apparently he too had made it through every hoop, leaving Harry wondering how the coach was going to cut down this field. He'd never tried out as a Seeker, and hadn't tried anyone else out for the position when he was captain either. Maybe he should have interrupted Ron during his history of Quidditch lecture to ask some more questions. Harry continued to watch the applicants until…

"Lucky last! Yates, Roger!"

Harry watched another near-perfect performance before the swarm of tryouts returned from their individual practices to land alongside the Seekers. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they watched the four Puddlemere players meet up with Coach Deverill and start sorting through the paper applications to show him who they were nominating. Harry's stomach squirmed. For someone who had defeated the greatest dark wizard of the age multiple times, he was disturbingly nervous about making the cut for Puddlemere United. He really did love Quidditch, but it was more than that. This was his chance at a normal life. As normal a life as you can have being a wizard who plays sport on broomsticks, anyway. It was a chance to actually shape his own legacy, to be famous not because of his mother's sacrifice or because someone wanted to kill him, but because he was talented at something.

Coach Deverill cleared his throat. "Thank you everyone for your patience, if I call your name out you have been cut, please leave the stadium immediately." In a flat voice, devoid of any emotion or interest, he started reading the names. Nearly everyone, from Adam Ackroyd (An enraged beater) to Roger Yates (The impressive Seeker Harry had just watched) were called out. Some shrugged their shoulders and took off, some swore and kicked a nearby Quaffle, and a few even attempted to argue. However after the first couple that tried arguing had been forcefully, and quite painfully, banished from the stadium, the rest went quietly.

The coach finally reached the end of his list and Harry breathed a deep sigh of relief, he'd made it through the first trial. He looked around and found he could pretty much count who was left as the field was now so sparse. The coach however cleared his throat again and saved him the trouble.

"Congratulations to the…4 Beaters, 7 Keepers- 7!? You're soft, Wood. 9 Chasers, and 4 Seekers. Split into your groups again and get ready for the second trial."

Once again Coach Deverill sunk into his chair and started fanning himself, apparently exhausted from the exertion of the 10 metre walk.

Harry walked back over to Benjy Williams, very confused as to why so many of the Seekers had been cut. He was not alone. A tiny woman with bright green hair tied in a spiked bun, and several piercings along her nose and ears stepped forward, scowling.

"How come you cut all them Seekers, huh? They seemed fine to me."

Benjy smiled politely back at her. "I didn't think you'd mind me thinning out your competition, Miss Perry."

The woman, Perry, put her hands on her hips and pouted. "I wanted to beat them myself, then you can eliminate them."

Benjy laughed. "That attitude is probably why you're still standing in front of me. I didn't announce it, but I was actually timing each of your runs."

"So…it was secretly a time trial?" Harry recognised the Seeker asking this question, the slightly older man, Michael Belby.

Benjy smiled innocently again. "Yes…and no. Quidditch is a professional sport that requires technical competency. Speed, agility, endurance. But to be a Seeker, well, I look for competitive, egotistical, individuals. Resolve, mental strength, whatever you want to call it. Individuals that will perform under any conditions to win! Anyone who took the obstacle course slowly to ensure they didn't make a mistake is, in my opinion, not fit to be a Seeker."

Harry frowned. He didn't consider himself egotistical, and yet… He cast his mind back and couldn't come up with a logical reason why he'd gone flat out through the entire course. Even when the Bludger came at him, he hadn't for a moment entertained the notion of pulling up, doubling back, and then proceeding through the hoop. The only solution he'd considered was one that didn't affect his speed.

' _There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?'_

Harry gritted his teeth. It had nearly been 8 years but that damn Sorting Hat would never stop reminding him he had a bit of Slytherin in him.

Perry didn't look totally convinced and opened her mouth to argue again, but Benjy swiftly cut across her.

"Don't worry, I think you'll get exactly the direct kind of competition you're looking for in our next trial." Benjy put his hand in his pocket and pulled out three golden balls, all about the size of a walnut. Sensing they were out in the open air, the three balls sprouted wings which slowly started to beat.

"Now it's very simple," Benjy continued, "I only have one rule for this trial. Catch one of these Snitches and you make it through. Don't, and you're out. Ready? Go!"

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for the really kind reviews :) I know I'm taking my time a bit with the pacing but that's just my style aha**


	5. Chapter 5

Harry drifted slowly from side to side, up so high that he enjoyed a bird's eye view of the whole stadium, ready to dive at the first sight of gold. His position also gave him a chance to watch his opponents; the other three Seekers were speeding around below him, everyone keeping a sharp eye out of the Snitch.

The first was a very lanky man who Harry had evidently missed watching while he was talking to Angelina. The man skirted around the edges of the stadium, craning his long neck in a way that reminded Harry somewhat of a periscope.

His second opponent in this trial was Michael Belby. He had quite a bit more muscle to him along with a keen, more experienced, eye that made Harry wary. He too was keeping to the edges, albeit on the opposite side of the stadium to the lanky man. Harry had watched Belby's run and he'd been very quick, Harry didn't fancy a sprint between the two of them for the Snitch.

Unlike the other two, Harry's third opponent was shooting around the pitch haphazardly. She zigzagged, did loops, dived and soared, and kept stopping, spinning, and flying back the way she came. Anyone watching her would think she was trying to shake an invisible stalker off her tail; this was the eccentric Perry. Her small size might have allowed her to fly under the radar, but her spiky green hair, piercings, and loud voice ensured she was the centre of attention.

While Perry would most likely be the closest to the Snitch when they eventually found it, Harry was confident she probably wouldn't see it before them, her task made more difficult by the fact she had to dodge out of the way of the other trial groups. The Chasers especially were getting annoyed at the green blur that kept flying through their passing drills.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. A flash of gold, directly underneath him perfectly in the centre of the pitch. He dove, straight down, chest pressed against the stick of his broom. He could see sudden movement in the periphery of his vision, the other Seekers had all seen it too, how far away they were he couldn't tell as he dared not take his eyes off the Snitch.

30 metres. 20 metres. 10 metres.

Harry stretched out his right arm, he could see two people pull out of the race, his fingers stretched out around the tiny golden ball and then-

THUMP

All Harry had to do was close his hand and the Snitch would have been his, but at the very last second a different hand had snatched it first, flying in from his left. Perry. Harry collided with her shoulder and was spent spinning out of control towards the ground. He desperately clung on to his broom, both legs kicked forward trying to break the spiral. The turf came rushing up to meet him and he bounced off the grass, launching over the front of his broom and rolling to a painful stop.

Harry tried getting up but hissed in pain when he shifted his weight onto his right arm. He rolled to the left instead and slowly staggered to his feet. In his final moments before impact he'd just stabilised his broom in time, cutting the speed dramatically, it was a very near miss.

Harry looked up and saw Perry shooting around the stadium, waving the captured Snitch back forward while gloating to the other Seekers. She was fast and fearless, a dangerous combination. More troubling, she was through to the next round.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Benjy Williams.

"You alright, Vernon?"

Harry blinked at him stupidly before remembering that he was Vernon.

"Y-yeah. I stopped myself in time…mostly."

Benjy grinned. "Excellent. Trials are still on so if you're right to fly then get back up there! Two Snitches to go!"

Harry nodded and went looking for his broom, it had ricocheted quite a distance on impact. When he found his Cleansweep Twelve he instinctively stretched out his right arm to pick it up, but quickly withdrew it back to his side, pain shooting through his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he picked it up with his left hand, swung his leg over, and kicked off. He rose slowly, and again tested his right arm by trying to grip the handle in front of him, but had to give up and let his arm fall limply to his side. He would have to steer one-handed for the rest of the trial.

Then, just as Harry thought things couldn't get any worse, he saw something that made his stomach drop. Perry was still flying around the stadium, now looking for a second Snitch. Harry swung around to look at Benjy, but he was still smiling amiably.

" _I only have one rule for this trial. Catch one of these Snitches and you make it through. Don't, and you're out."_

Harry groaned, Perry was trying to eliminate all of them at once. He climbed higher, back to his spot above the stadium. He wouldn't be able to change directions quickly with one hand, he was now totally relying on a straight dive to the Snitch. His other rivals however had changed strategies.

Belby was shadowing Perry tightly, never falling more than a couple of metres behind her no matter what evasive manoeuvre she tried. After much zig-zagging and loop-de-looping she scowled and drifted to the middle of the pitch, nearly colliding with the other Seeker, the lanky man with a long neck. He had taken to slowly rotating on the spot, an idea Harry realised was actually pretty clever as there were no Bludgers attacking stationary players. His face went a little warm as for the first time he felt slightly out of his depth.

"You can do it, Vernon!"

Harry looked around for the kind voice and spotted Angelina waving from her seat in the top tier of the stadium. Harry smiled back at her and descended a little closer to the ground. He'd been arrogant assuming he could just hang around up high and outrace the other Seekers to the Snitch. Now with all three of them so central there was no way he could start from so far away.

Somewhat hesitantly he hovered above the lanky man in the centre of the pitch, trying to watch him, the duelling pair of Belby and Perry, and for the Snitch.

With a lurch he saw the lanky man's eyes widen and knees snap together. Harry forced his broom around in a 180 with his one good arm and took off in the same direction after him, only having given up a couple of seconds' head start. Harry lowered himself to the broom and lined himself up perfectly behind the man, using him as a shield from the wind and creeping closer and closer in his slipstream. He still couldn't actually see the Snitch, but he was aware that Belby and Perry were in the same race somewhere to his left, all four of them streaking along the length of the pitch towards a wall of seats.

The front of Harry's broom was practically touching the tail of the lanky man's now, the perfect overtaking position. Having closed the gap he swung out to the left, and then back to the right, intending to bump the lanky man off his line with his right shoulder. It was only a second before impact that Harry remembered there was a reason he was currently flying one-handed. There was a sickening crunch and Harry let out a gasp of excruciating pain. His shoulder was agonising but he had succeeded in drawing perfectly level now. They were flying neck and neck and Harry could finally see the Snitch! It was hovering so close to one of the seats you'd have thought it had paid a ticket to be there. It occurred to Harry then that they would have no way of braking or pulling up when they caught it, they were flying at over 100km/h, it was essentially suicide.

Probably coming to an identical conclusion, the lanky man glanced to his left at Harry, shook his head, and pulled up. Harry, to be perfectly honest, felt like joining him, but then the Snitch darted away, whizzing around the boundary of the stadium, but still only centimetres off the seats. Harry wrenched his broom up in a hard turn and barely avoided colliding with the seats himself. He was closing in on the Snitch now, the world on its side, he was nearly there…and then he heard an angry yell from behind him.

Maybe it was because he hadn't played in a while. Maybe it was because he was in an unfamiliar environment. All that Harry knew was he'd committed the cardinal sin of taking your eyes off the Snitch. Belby was shouting furiously as he spun away, trying to regain control of his broom, Perry was the only one behind him now, her eyes hungry. Before Harry could turn back around and catch the Snitch, she'd seized the tail of his broom and yanked it backwards. With a lurch, Harry's broom jerked off its path and he too was sent off in a different direction, his one hand gripped tightly trying to keep his balance. By the time he'd steadied himself, Perry was again waving her hand back and forward, fingers wrapped around the struggling golden ball. Belby was already on the ground remonstrating with Benjy Williams.

"She can't do that!" Belby howled. Harry hovered nearby, wanting to yell alongside Belby, but he knew what was coming.

"I think you'll find that she can" Benjy responded calmly. "I did say there was only one rule for this trial…"

"So, what, you're just going to reward cheating? How does that help you choose a Seeker!?" Belby continued to yell.

"I'm going to reward people who do whatever it takes to win"-

"But"-

"And, I remind you, that there is still one more Snitch out there, so if you want to play for Puddlemere..."

Belby's face resembled a tomato, his lips firmly clamped shut with the clear sign he was holding back a long string of expletives. Harry turned away from them and rose up back to the centre of the stadium. Waiting for him was a gloating Perry.

"Two down, one to go!" She taunted in a sing-song voice.

Harry gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to bite back. In moments like these he tried to abide by something Oliver Wood had once told him. _'Losers don't get to talk'._ Wood had always been true to his motto, there was no point in wasting time talking when you could be working harder to try and win.

With a great amount of self-control, Harry turned his back on Perry and started circling the centre of the pitch, eyes peeled for the final Snitch. Belby on the other hand was officially tilted.

"COME HERE YOU RUNTY LITTLE BITCH!"

Harry turned back to see Belby shooting straight at Perry, shoulder raised, aiming to knock her off her broom.

* * *

 **A/N: So the reason I started writing for Harry Potter was that I was going to do a Harry Potter Quiz Night with some friends and was re-reading the series as preparation. I'm happy to say that the studying paid off and we won, easily (as in 14 points between us and second place...). Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, sorry for the little brag!**


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